前几天刚看了PETER GREENAWAY的the cook, the thief, his wife and her lover. 今天又跟导师讨论了一番Frankfurt School.我想,如果你对ADORNO或者BENJAMINE的美学批评理论有所了解的话,应该是会有助于对GREENAWAY的理解的.
Frankfurt School对电影的主要批评在于电影这个媒介从它的出生开始,就不是传统美学所理解的艺术. 而是被广泛的运用与政治宣传. 这也是由电影的性质所决定的. 从生产上来说,电影是可以批量生产的,并且一部电影需要由一组人而不是一个个体(INDIVIDUAL)来完成. 从发布来说,电影是批量发布的,它可以以同样的(没有任何变化的)姿态同时出现在成千上万家电影院的观众面前.
程序上来说,PETER GREENAWAY的电影与别的电影并没有太不同. 但是电影只所以会成为政治宣传工具还是因为它往往是以一种复现真实世界的形态出现, 特别是在电影发明之初, 人们甚至都会被电影里开过的火车吓跑.虽然如今这种情形也许不会那么极端,但是电影由于它的逼真性使大多数人相信那里面发生的就是事实.而虽然很多时候被虚拟化,人们依然希望从电影里找到生活,并进一步相信电影里所诉说的关于美好生活的观点. 这样的观众自然会觉得GREENAWAY不知所云. GREENAWAY一向认为英国传统的DOCUMENTRY或者是REALIST FILMS, 都是PSUEDO-DOCUMENTRY. 其实也是像盲人摸象一样,一具躯体的感官,再加上由这副感官所控制的仪器们,要说出一个完整的故事,既然这个故事完整了,那么必然要剪掉很多不符合故事逻辑的地方.然而就是这样一个片面的故事,却要让人们相信它是真的,它真的代表生活.
GREENAWAY就不会这样. 我倒是不记得PILLOW BOOK怎样了,但是就我最近看的两个: the draughtsman's contract, the cook..他非常喜欢在电影中穿插一些把你从情节上引开的元素,比如目睹一切发生却不参与情节发展的活人雕塑,又比如闯入性爱镜头取厨具的厨子, 等等. 我觉得这些很大程度上是用来告诉观众: 你们现在看的不是真正发生的事情, 是一个虚拟的境界. 如FRANKFURT SCHOOL所认为的, 所谓的UTOPIA不存在在现实世界中,而艺术家所致力于的,正是创造出一个在现实生活中不能达到的境界. 对现实的批评,同样的,在艺术来说,也不应该立足于一个本身就很弱,偏颇的体制上,而是应该再创造出一个境界来. GREENAWAY自己也说了: let's try to tell the truth within fiction (always acknowledge as fiction). 这样说来, GREENAWAY的电影,就不再是传统意义上的电影,而是以电影作为媒介的艺术品了. 也无怪乎他要说"电影已死",我倒觉得这种死法还是满乐观的定论.
回过头来再想想PILLOW BOOK. <源氏物语>大概是最早的叙事性小说了, 而GREENAWAY又是如此一位反叙事的导演, 他想通过这电影说的事理自然会很精彩. 真正的观感也只有等再看一遍才能写出来了.
其实我也还在消化今天所谈论所想的事情, 写下来只是为了整理一下自己的知识. 如果你也能从我所想的中找到些许有用的东西,我自然是高兴.
When I raised my long-buried head out of the book, the train went on moving. Slices of sunshine poured down through layers and layers of clouds, those typical English clouds. When the caesious grass and the lonely trees and the still houses flashed across my eyes, at that moment I wasn't real. I was in that unearthly exotic place that I weaved long time ago. It's like the world in Kyslovski's magic glass ball, it's not about a degree, a night out, a kitchen full of unwashed dishes; it's only a motioning picture, a picture caters all the curiosities. Time tamely goes back to years ago, when I first came here, for that very moment. The picture of a peaceful English summer is still vivid: a dog, afternoon shower, the rainbow in the sky, a garden full of flowers…
Although stereotypes of a certain country is not at all what k is about, all the travellers, including the hero Julian, have these illusions, unevitably. Like the world seen in the glass ball, concentrated, brightened, but unfortunately reflectionally up-side-down.
Hong Ying 's writing is very passionate. It is hard to escape from the mysterious net she weaved to tramp you down to the bottom of the plots. Especially those inserted sights of landscapes and cities, too lively to escape from. Beijing has always been like that: deep blue sky, sunshiny winter, light grey roads, light brown trees, those pine trees are always as still as bonsais… my memory for Beijing has never stayed in spring, and not charateristically in summer, but only in autumn, especially the late autumn, when it was not as cold as winter but bright as.
It was in Beijing, that Julian and Lin started their affair sexually. Beijing is no doubt the most characteristic city in China, and winter in Beijing is thirsty and freezing, perfect for making love. It is quite an attempt, though, to interpret the 'fang zhong shu' (the ancient Chinese sex techniques and theories) as a feminism approach. I m not quite convinced that Lin is a free spirit in that case. She's after all, a sex slave protrated herself to some inequal love affair. Nevertheless, I really like the alternative reading of the classic work. The theories are at one time very convincingly feminism. It is the plots that give it a psuedo flavour.
Another interesting part of the novel is the scenes in the opium house. I was in the train, listening to coming up (suede 1997) while reading. The quiver of the train movement, the music effect made by then drug addicted Brett Anderson, interwove the premise for my irregular heart-throb when reading that paragraph of opium taking. It was as simulating as the love scenes. Is it because she made it paralell to sex that some equivalent effect happened? Or can it be that human bodies, at least some of the bodies, are naturally exposed to drug addiction, as if they naturally take sex as a joy moment?
Now I really want to read the English version.
Maybe it's Chester, who makes the sun shines bright today. He was still sleeping when I started to write this entry. But now he's sitting right beside me, watching me typing
*Chester *brings along the love from Lulu, and Felix
Together with my outcome of yesterday's retail therapy
my just tidied up lonely room looks lively now
which lies behind her new novel 'the green platye'
摘自 虹影 《绿袖子》
In what way
that I can see
beside the shade of
the map or,
When you touched me softly with
your finger on
my painful skin
It exceeds the fragrance of
the best sex I had,
Only compares to
the joy left from
the last twinkling of
I like the last line best… can't translate it at all…. the previous version is in one of my old entryCOMMENT:
My future is marked in the folding lines of the map
your fingers slightly touch above.
My sorrow slices my heart with every glimpse I steal.
The joy rests not in the sweetness of lust,
But in the last twinkle of light, between us,
It slid by, taking with it my all
I like the 'my sorrow slices my heart with every glimpse I steal' line…
hmmm… is it possible to keep the '之途', which means 'on the way', 'on the journey' in English??----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Lu YangEMAIL: L.Yang.email@example.comIP: URL: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/yanglu/DATE: 12/03/2004 01:45:29 下午 You are gonna have to explain the source text to me first :D Caz I have no idea how to put it in simple, prosaic Chinese----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Red ChanEMAIL: Red.Chan@warwick.ac.ukIP: URL: DATE: 12/04/2004 08:27:10 下午
Let me give it a go:
How can I see?
My future, in that folding line
of the map
Your finger, tenderly
Touched my sorrow
More fragrant than sex, feels like the first time
Between you and me
As if, in that last moment, the light slips
down that path of redundant pleasure
My headache is getting the better of me, not inspired at all.
Seems to me you two take more liberty in rewriting the poem than I've allowed myself.
At the end of the day poetry translation is very personal. It's the product of the translator's mood and state of mind of a particular time.
If I revisit this poem tomorrow I probably would come up with a completely different version.----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Peng ZouEMAIL: P.Zou@warwick.ac.ukIP: URL: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/zoupeng/DATE: 12/05/2004 01:48:19 上午
I think I should share you two the book.
Having read bits of k , I think the Green Platye is written in a more prosaic language…
It is more… tricky… maybe I should have said inductive… and sensitive… since she's wiser in Chinese writing, it becomes more difficult to translate
and more importantly, our dearest, nicest Red Chan: would you please introduce us more of the modern Chinese literature, please! … since you have THAT many books! Within them I could recogonise some famous titles and names, some I have read but not really understood, some i only heard of and never got the chance to read… Can we possible share a bit of your treasures????----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Red ChanEMAIL: firstname.lastname@example.orgIP: URL: DATE: 12/05/2004 10:39:43 上午
I'll be happy to lend you my books – as long as you promise to take very good care of them and return them afterwards. A pity that I'm very busy all the time, otherwise I'll start a reading group of Chinese literature.
I love talking about books and writers (can't stop once I start), one of my favourite pastimes is to discuss with friends a particular book (or film) in detail. You can find a whole new world in sharing views of the same text!
I'm running half of an MA module in hybrid identities next term and I've invited the translator of K to give us a talk. You should come! I'll also try to invite Hong Ying, if she's around I'm sure she'll say yes.----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Peng ZouEMAIL: P.Zou@warwick.ac.ukIP: URL: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/zoupeng/DATE: 12/05/2004 01:02:27 下午 Thank you so much Red!
But it's always happy to have a fully scheduled weekend.
Happy birthday to Lou!
Chairman Mao's spirit never dies!
Friday's not that great after all. The cure never cured anyone!
These two works I present here, though in different forms and done in different times, are generally set in same mood and theme. Both of them were originally written in Chinese. And I have only done the translations till tonight. The English version must be quite lame, but hopefully dynamic. Although both of them are about quite private issues, it is still nice to have people commenting the translations (if possible). Plus I owed the translation of the latter prose for a friend, by putting it in public, I hope he can read it one day :)
The Last Love Poem
Sitting near the meridian
I can see the time on the phone
Wandering in this minute
there comes a new day for the world
wants to race with the time
satisfying the curiosity in
the 5th time zone
when some other one
wants to chase the time back
reaching the west to the dateline
to save the 40 minutes distance
for another twelve hours
This is my love poem for you
maybe for the last time
then all the claustrophobia
will turn sour in the atalantic
surrounding by the minerals
The Time Spent on the River
He unfolded his memory on this day, when he recalled walking along the riverside with her. The vast, and dirty river, the muddy footpath along the riverside, the noisy cargo boats which disturbed the dead silence of the river surface, and the old men past them with frequent glances back on such strange couple time by time, consist a vivid picture on his mind. So vivid it is that seems like a dream he had last night.
And she passed the river once again today, where there were bunches of lovers walking along, surprisingly. They were walking on the expensive white-jade-paved path, taking along either their pets or kids with them. Sometimes the neat dressed kids and the lovely dogs were playing with the water in the newly built fountain yard. There were couples of lovers coming only with each other as well, who were sitting together on the chaise longues put on the sand by the river only till recently. While enjoying the breeze, two cups of first picking of green tea are awaited there already. She realized a sailing boat shaped building had taken place of the pavilion where there used to be a lot of aged people dancing and playing chess. The footpath its own, is three times wider than before. The teenagers were flying kites with their parents? guidance. Under the sky where all those colorful kites fly, the river no longer stinks. There she could feel the tidy and merry atmosphere blowing on her face.
She recalled the grey winter afternoon then, when they started a close embrace by the riverside. A long lasting and tiring embrace. Therefore they mutually decided to stop and drink some water. It was only after a long distance walked along the long pavilion had they found a corner shop for bottled water. She bought him a pack of local rice cake beside. He didn?t like the taste. He told her it was too sweet.
It?s true. At the moment, she can feel the vividness of the memory as well.
It seems only because they walked there in a wrong time, that had predicted their impassionate ended love.
When the swallows has flown
And the night is getting cold
Turn away from hopelessness
There'll be solace for your pain
—-The Gentle Waves, 'Solace for Pain'
Like the songs sung in the Churches, it releases me a bit from the unreasonable pain I have been undergoing.
Thinking of the ways to ease the pain apart from getting help from friends and being extreme escapicism, I come up with the following:
I think I m paranoid, sometimes. It's a treat to indulge myself that way sometimes. But after all I need to find my track back and see more interesting things in life before I die accidently. Shoulda make effort to fulfill my life journey. And God will love me so much ;)COMMENT:
Excellent suggestions. I can attest to the value of your comment about music especially; I've found that whatever I'm feeling, music can change or amplify it like nothing else. If I'm feeling sad, I can cope – but if I start thinking of something like, say, 'Smile (though your heart is breaking)' by Chaplin, I'll easily burst into tears! Similarly, an American woman I knew actually banned herself from listening to music whenever she felt the least bit sad, because it influenced her so deeply that she couldn't trust herself to listen to it.
lol, and I'll bet he does. Good luck, be happy.----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: ?EMAIL: IP: URL: DATE: 11/10/2004 08:22:24 上午 why o why are u up do damn early?
Why oh why not? It's actually a pretty nice day today.
OK, I 'fess up, I couldn't sleep. Don't know about Zou!----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Peng ZouEMAIL: P.Zou@warwick.ac.ukIP: URL: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/zoupeng/DATE: 11/10/2004 12:08:30 下午
Actually I forgot an important one: swimming, the best way of releasing! The Sport centre is so cruel to have closed that early at night everyday, otherwise I would really like to go swimming in many of the nights that I was upset.
Yeh, I couldn't sleep. Sometimes it's easy for the easy-sleeper, saying 'tomorrow is another day'. Tougher game for the night owls to play against the pain :) Tomorrow's never gonna come if you don't sleep. Nevertheless, I was up that late for good reasons, I was reading canterbury tales! yey! Time's so limited, I need to squeeze it to fulfill my ambitions :)----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Jordan GrayEMAIL: J.B.Gray@warwick.ac.ukIP: URL: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/jordangray/DATE: 11/16/2004 03:26:05 上午
Ooh, another night owl! More people who's minds won't let them sleep. I'm glad to add you to my list, Zou.
Swimming is amazing. I can't actually swim properly – I can't get my head under the water properly. However, I can float and play and swish and do some of the easier strokes, and I always come out feeling refreshed and relaxed, and a lot happier than I was when I went in. Sometimes the anticipation of a swim is enough, it's just such a great thing to do!
The Canterbury Tales, I will leave them for another night.----- COMMENT:AUTHOR: Peng ZouEMAIL: P.Zou@warwick.ac.ukIP: URL: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/zoupeng/DATE: 11/16/2004 12:05:04 下午 haha, I ve left the canterbury tales already… got too much works to do… which means all-nights are coming up
Hey, I think you might be on to something! Us night owls need somewhere to feel at home. Naturally meetings would be held from ten in the evening, though that might be uncomfortably early for some of our membership. Hot chocolate would be the big order of the day.
I'm convinced that therapy is the way to go – a disorder might be individual, but as with all unwanted characteristics, if you can subjugate it, why not go for it? I don't know why, but I feel sort of… happy, knowing that people read what I say and see themselves reflected in it. It reinforces my hope that I'm not totally isolated, I'm not cut off.
If you're looking for some good reading, I'm starting on some Blake. Reading his poems of Innocence and Experience together, they sort of merge without cancelling each other out, so you get a beautiful mingling of the childish optimism and bitter scepticism, each tempering the extremes of the other. So you can read it without feeling totally depressed or unbearably hippy!
'Biological, I don't know why I feel this way with you. Biological, I want you to be perfect.' Air's dizzy music.
Old familiar dizzy Air, but still mysterious. It's the dizzy touch gives the music the mystery as well as the blurry English, though the lyrics examines the 'flesh around your bones' and 'your DNA' one after another.
'In the dream, we are in green; awaken from the dream, we're still in green. People see us in black illusions, whereas they are not aware it's achromatopsia'— Preface. The Green Platye. Hong Ying. 2004
I m always puzzled by the literature attracts me. When I start reading many novels I read 5 years or 10 years ago all over again, I start wondering how could I fancy such works that much at that age. I can't understand most of them even now. Was it others' recommendation really had great impact on my young unconcious mind? Or was it the beauty of mystery being seductive?
The situation is exactly the same at that time as when I don't understand Air's intention on writing a song about a precise science subject with such dizzy tone at this moment.Same puzzles occur in my mind toward Hong Ying's preface as well: why they are in green? Why such colour is invisible to other people? Why I am so moved in such mystery of words? There must be some delicateness among the structure of the language. How could it fondle my sense otherwise? There must be a dainty feel that is shared between the author and I. I can hold it in my mind temporarily, but I can't reach the language to note it down. It will fade. Fading like the way I m losing my point at this very moment.
It can be the sympathy for love. The sensation shared between people is love. The sensation that would touch deeply in others' minds, is sympathy for love. The touch brings an urge to cry. It is a fist that knocking your mind repeatedly.
It is the sympathy of love. I know it's a love story, at least there is love in the story. The love is not shown, the love is shared by two lonely souls. Three or more perhaps, but not changing the fact of loneliness. This love blinds my eyes. This blindness leads me only to the beauty of mystery among the language. Mystery is a sense of blue. The sympathy shared by the author and me to the love is also the calling from my mind to be sympathised.
_'In what way
that I can see
the shade of the map
When you touch me softly
with your finger
on my painful skin
It exceeds the fragrance of sex,
like the best
Between you and me
Like the joy of the last moment
the journey of lights' sliding'_
—————— back page poem on The Green Platye
It seems I have made a lot of wrong decisions during this period
Choose not to talk to people is a major one. What am I feared of, if these are the major things make me blue?
1# Crush by Garbage
I would die for you,
I would die for you,
I've been dying just to feel you by my side,
To know that you're mine.
I will cry for you,
I will cry for you,
I will wash away your pain with all my tears,
And drown your fear.
Ah ah, ah ah ah,
Ah ah, ah ah ah,
Ah ah, ah ah.
I will pray for you,
I will pray for you,
I will sell my soul for something pure and true,
Someone like you.
See your face every place that I walk in,
Hear your voice every time that I'm talking,
You will believe in me,
And I will never be ignored.
I will burn for you,
Feel pain for you,
I would twist the knife and bleed my aching heart,
And tear it apart.
I would lie for you,
Beg and steal for you,
I would crawl on hands and knees until you see,
Your just like me.
Violate all the love that I'm missing,
Throw away all the pain that I'm living,
You will believe in me,
And I can never be ignored…
I would die for you,
I would kill for you,
I will steal for you,
I'd do time for you,
I will await for you,
I'd make room for you,
I'd sail ships for you,
To be close to you,
To be a part of you,
As I believe in you,
I believe in you,
I would die for you…
_ * and for all the ones I had crush on…. _
Hi Zou Peng, I enjoy reading your blog very much!
Just a quick message to say that tomorrow's (Sunday) Independent has an interview of E. McGregor, make sure you get a copy!
1. Sweet snacks. e.g candies, chewing gums, fruity gums, fruit esp. plumps, biscuit etc. when I m sad, upset, anxious, depressed and writing essays.
2. Rich tea biscuit with Mocha. My new obsession. i can't stop taking them when I try to concerntrate writing essay, writing blog, writing anything as well as when I m watching a video. Oh yeh, when I have the period pain, and also after any meal.
3. windows games and msn games. Before get down to write essays.
4. Any poker games, any time any network… any mood I meant
5. Meat. After eating sweet things, I always want some meat, otherwise I would die. A day without a meal with meat would be incrediably awful, and impossible to sleep that night.
6. * (keep it private) anytime
7. (keep it private) anytime again, but esp. before writing an essay or doing some serious business
8. cry (when there isn't anything sad for)
9. checking if there's anyone in msn blocking me or deleting with various means of detectors. (I used to be obsessed with msn chatting for a time)
10. Day dreaming. Anytime, but esp. when I m a boring lecture, a long car journey, walking alone, waitressing/stewarding etc.
I think I m obsessive, but not typically obsessive.TITLE:
Ok, here I found some picture of this man called Theodor Adorno. I firmly believe that he's notorious. Today I spent a whole afternoon working on his nasty theory of cultural industry, again. What a headache! Why educated people get as sophisticated as he is?! Hundred pages of unreadable scripts written with the purpose of telling people they are stupid. I feel stupid, it's really hard to understand what he tries to say! But he's damn right for some reason, people do appreciate their culture packed as products so that it can be easily digested, even nowadays. I had thought that it would be damn difficult to cater the audience when I first thought of getting involved in the media. But shouldn't it be me undermining the most out of my brian so that both me and my readers would profit on the level of intelligence. Yeh, Adorno, though boasting there on the papers of his taste of art, had not been phony. He's just a sad old, and ridiculous old man. I decide to leave him alone now.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
That, actually I heard first in External Sunshine on the Spotless Mind. I don't care about what surrealism or cult film it has to be. I think it's kinda romantic. I could hear my own voices there when the lovers tried to draw back the memories. I could hear myself screaming: DO NOT DISAPPEAR! And the memories of them kinda echoed in my mind, reminded me of some stories. I m sorry if this unfortunately proved Adorno's theory of popular culture. I sincerely hope that I m not on his list of MASS, though it's very possible cos I haven't finished reading his work, it's still a mystery.
And that's why I kept silence all the way home, not even saying goodbye to those work fellas. By that I didn't mean Adorno's theory of who's stupid, it's just the film.
So I danced and danced. Try to dance out the melancholy. And my anonymous lovesick. Then I danced, on the silent floor of the flat, staring at my own silhouette from the window before all the darkness outside.
And now, I m happy.
2:30 PM, Saturday morning.
* Bright sunny day.
Kill Bill II first. As a DVD, it has been ignored for a long while. I even bought two same copies of Kill Bill II cos I didn't remember I'd bought it. But I have always believed that the Kill Bills are better in cinema. The music and the actions are better with louder echoed stereos and big screen. Oh I love cinema! I m so glad I worked for the cinema tonight, though just some simple jobs, I feel honoured :)
So, Kill Bill II. As Ruth told us, feminism. Women win! Hoooorray! It's so optimistic and positive that live or die seems mostly totally in control. Hmmm, inspiring! Also as a Chinese audience, I didn't find many part of the film as funny as the Britons found. Like the five step technique thing, it's so common in an authentic Chinese kungfu film. And Kill Bill is more an authentic Chinese kungfu film than Croaching Tiger Hiden Dragon, though mixed with many other cultures.
Ok, then the bad side of tonight. Me being alone in a 12 room flat for about 3 hours. How sad, Friday night, no visitor, no going out. And damn me, I played the warm and love mania 60s summer love album. So it was, for a time, miserable night for me.
With the coming and going of the Mid-Autumn Day, also called Moon Festival, I have been sleeping with moonlight for about a week. Have absorbed too much moonlight, I become pale as the vampires. The spidernet settled on my window reinforces my idea of being a creature of dark power. Locating in a castle of darkness can be a good reason for leaving the room as a mess. Look at the picture, I m facinating. Webcam is the magic mirror that hides most of the flaws on the face. With the help of the magic mirror and my improved making up skills, I look absolutely another person in that picture. Isn't it like a lie? A lie that links me to a strange kingdom with my mysterious new personality.COMMENT: